KiGo, something new from old
by Happy1K1nob1
Summary: It's a KiGo you'd never expect, with an evil you'd never think was so funny.
1. A talk with Betty

"Ah! Hello! You're Dr. Director, right?"

She turned around. "Who are you?"

"I'm the reason Kim Possible is dead and your informant as to how it happenned. However, I will only tell you if you promis on your life, your job, anything and everything that will make sure my one wish comes true no matter what."

"What is it?"

"That I get sent to her after I finish talking."

"That can most definitely be arranged. Please, have a seat."

A big, flashy smile. "Nah, I'll get a burger while I talk? I have been known to be rather long-winded."

Dr. Director considered it. "Well, whuy not? Just let me grab this and we'll have a nice long walk in the park." She smiled as she grabbed a recording device, pushed the record button, and jammed it into her pocket as the two of them left the room. "So, how about you start from the beginning?"

Short hair flew around. "Nope. I'm gonna start from before the beginning. Not from my perspective though. From Kim's. And yes, I am _very_ trustworthy. In this if nothing else."

A/N: Nice beginning, don't you think? A good setup to start a complicated piece.


	2. Before the beginning

Kim sat down, hard, and basically went catatonic. She didn't register for a moment that food was put before her.

"Kim?"

She shook her head in an attempt to rejoin reality. "Hm?"

Her friend had worry written all over his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Kim flashed a smile and ate a few bites.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing. Why would anything be wrong?" She said quickly.

"I'm your best friend Kim. You can tell me."

"There's nothing to tell." She took a big bite of her Naco.

"If you're sure." Ron said in uncertainty.

She nodded a yes and finished her meal.

'

The door unlocked and the coat-clad redhead surveyed the inside of the building again. She took a deep breath. "Home, sweet home." She spread out what she had on her person to their current resting places, sat down, and put on a movie. She didn't know if it was to watch the movie, or to distract herself from the haunted feelings that she couldn't name if she tried, though she never did. She fell asleep on the couch, a tear on her face.

'

A few weeks later, when she got a call from Wade about Drakken and Shego, she almost cried with joy as she got ready. She hadn't heard about them for years, since before her eventless graduation in fact.

The ride was fast and quiet, Drakken's plan nonsensical, and Shego put up a good fight. Except, after a bit, Shego started to become distracted, unbalanced. She started ignoring little things and there was less banter than there was earlier.

When the day was done, it didn't feel like a victory. It felt dirty, unfair, or maybe even like nothing at all. Sure, she put on the show like she'd been doing for years, but it took an effort to not burst into tears. An effort she almost didn't make.

She stopped making the effort when she got to her ramshackle little home again. In here, she didn't have to care anymore. In here, life was simple. It was what it was. Nothing more, nothing less. Nobody had to know. Nobody had to care.

* * *

><p>"Really? She said that?" Betty asked, intrigued in a morbid sort of way, like watching a train wreck or a 10 car pileup.<p>

"Those exact words. Now shut up 'cause this is only the beginning."

"Sorry." The admonishment had been gentle, like it was from an old friend who wasn't annoyed. It didn't keep Betty from cringing a little.

* * *

><p>Kim woke with a hand on her throat, iron grip crushing in hard.<p>

"WHERE IS SHE?" The intruder yelled.

Kim was like a deer in headlights. Then the car honked when the intruder shook her violently. She barely choked out "Wha-?"

"WHERE IS SHE?" He repeated.

She choked loudly. "She who?" Again, just barely.

"YOU KNOW WHO I'M TALKING ABOUT! NOW WHERE IS SHE!"

"I don't +choke+ know who you're +choke+ talking about."

"He's talking about me." Came a small voice from five feet away.

The intruder moved as a sound ripped the silence apart, trying to blow out eardrums. The intruder hit the floor with a thump as there was a metallic tchk-ck! sound (that she knew she knew, just not where from) and a small plastic on linoleum clink.

All Kim really knew was that she could breathe again, which she did so in giant gasping breaths.

"You've been leading a charmed life little girl." The voice said again. It was soft, feminine, and sad. "But it's time to wake up and smell the ugly black coffee. There's a lot more to this world than just heroes and villains." There was the sound of rustling cloth, and something was put under the bed. "It's not a bad dream, Kimmie. This, is the ugly truth of reality."

A/N: A deer responds to sound better than light. The phrase 'like a deer in headlights' is completely accurate, and so is the analogy I used here. My brother was driving the two of us home and a deer was caught by fear caused by seeing the headlights and he startled it out of shock and into action by honking at it. Much faster than waiting for the fear to get over the 'panic freeze' response on it's own. Interesting huh? Just like my chapter, I think.


	3. Thirty Minutes Later

Thirty minutes later, a knock on her door was heard. Kim slowly got up and went to open it. She put on a smile and said, "Yes?"

"Ma'am, someone called 911 about a gunshot, maybe an attempted murder, earlier tonight." He was tall, dark haired, slightly imposing, definitely developing a bit of a gut.

"I didn't call, but it happened here."

"Why didn't you call?"

"I was shell-shocked. I mean, this is my home, and someone tried to kill me." Why was he familiar...

"Well, can we have a look around?"

She smiled a little coquettishly. "Sure Josh. Come on in." She opened the door a little more widely.

"How'd you know my name was Josh?" He asked as he came in.

"Well Officer Mankey, we went on a date once."

When he flipped on the light, the only thing that surprised him more about the practically single-room building than the dead body with blood painting a wall was Kim's reaction. "Aren't you surprised?"

"Yeah, but I'm still in partial shock. I'm still mentally reeling from having a shotgun go off not 5 feet away." And it's true. Mostly it was just 'This was my home, my one safe place. My one escape from the fantasy some call reality, and they just barged in and destroyed it. Ripped it to shreds. My one final haven, gone. Just like that.'

"So, can you tell me exactly what happened?"

She shrugged. "As close as I can. I wake up and that guy's over me, choking the life outta me. He yelled at me several times, asking where someone was, and I told him that I didn't know who he was talking about. Then, a voice said 'He's talking about me.' The guy lept at her, then was hit by the shotgun's blast. I don't really react much past that becasue I'm focusing on breathing." She's pretty damn calm about it.

He nodded as he wrote it down on a notepad and said, "Can you remember anything else?"

"Nothing that will help. I can remember evertything, but mostly it was just that she said 'Wake up and smell the coffee' and other words o that effect. Sorry I can't be more helpful.

"Did you see her face?"

"No."

"What's your name?"

"Kimberly Anne Possible."

He looked up from his notes, an suddenly recognized her.

"Yeah, I know, why am I living here? If you wouldn't mind, I'd like this to stay in the file, ok?"

"Um, sure."

"Thanks." She turned around, then realized her house wouldn't be a good place to stay just now. She made a frustrated sound.

"Just realizing that you don't have anywhere else?"

She gave him a smile over her shoulder. "I'll figure it out. Don't worry about me." She turned and went over to her closet. There was a duffelbag in there with most of her clothes already in it. She stuffed the rest into it, added a few personal belongings, and patted him on the shoulder as she left.

She undid her ponytail and put on a ratty jacket as she wandered through the alleyways of Lowerton, not really with a purpose. Not once in the entire wander did she notice the person following her. Nor did she hear someone shout, "Hey! Watch the tail!"

* * *

><p>Betty glared at the narrator.<p>

"Ok, ok, the tail part didn't happen. But there were _two_ poeple following her."

"And you were one of them?"

"Nope. I was on the rooftop."

"So you were stalking her from the rooftops."

"I wasn't stalking her! . . . yet."

"Uh-huh." Betty nodded with a smile like 'Yeah, right.'

An embarrassed cough came her way. "Anyways..."

* * *

><p>That night, Kim had a dream. Not so much a dream as a series of images so detailed as to be real. They were dark, ominous scenes, ones that were almost out of place without a single drop of blood. Sometimes there were people, sometimes not. But eventually there was only her. She was, ... her. A scared little girl scarcely more than 12 or 13.<p>

And no matter how briefly an image was there, she remembered it for the rest of her life.


	4. The first encounter

Kim's eyes snapped open. There was a single thought in her mind. 'Follow the sound.'

And in that split second before it faded, she knew it hadn't come from her, and that it would happen.

Then her normal morning day blues returned and she grumped silently as she sat up and yawned. Tiredly, she dragged herself from her bed, her duffel bag in this case since there was enough space to curl up between clothes, and zipped it up. She went to the 7/11 for a breakfast of cheap coffee and donuts, and wandered without notice of any kind.

Until, that is, she heard something outside a warehouse. It didn't mix with the life, the heartbeat, of the city, and it was beautiful.

* * *

><p>"Hold up, you lost me."<p>

A sigh escaped the narrator's lips. "Okay, okay. Where'd I lose you?"

"I thought she fell asleep in her clothes in an alley, not in her duffel bag."

"She did. I skipped a week because she didn't tell me if anything happened. Since there was nothing to tell, other than that she realized that sleeping in her duffel bag would be better since that way she couldn't lose it without being stolen herself, and it gave her a bed slash sleeping bag that she could carry around without looking too homeless."

"And how did she realize that?"

"Hell if I know. I can guess, but that wouldn't help."

Betty was about to ask about her idle comments when the narrator continued with the story.

* * *

><p>She went inside, looking for the source of the sound, when she noticed a small gang, made up mostly of taller black boys, and went behind a crate. Then the lights cut out.<p>

She couldn't tell what was happening, but the screams left fairly little to the imagination. She backed away from the crate, stopping instinctively in the middle of the floor. Coincidentally, she was also right in the middle of the square of moonlight from the only skylight in the entire warehouse. She felt very small and alone.

Then she was smaller, but no longer so alone. Something huge entered her vision. Something she could never have believed if she hadn't seen it herself.

It was big, craggy, weird, just plain huge and freaky! But the scariest part was that there seemed to be nostrils, a mouth, and eyes in this thing, this thing that looked like a pebbled floating boulder.

And yet, even through all the smoke surrounding the two, something else was portrayed, no, conveyed between them. It almost felt like a feeling, and it was delightful and confusing, and exhilarating, and most of all scary and undefinable. It wasn't something she'd ever encountered before, or could ever hope to encounter, and she wished that the universe would just stop. Just freeze in this moment for an hour or an eternity.

But it didn't. A flame flared up and the craggy thing just melted into the background.

She stood there, puzzling out the feeling it left behind, until a flaming timber fell in front of her and reminded her that she was in the middle of a warehouse that was burning right to the ground.

She looked around for a way out, and ran for it. She hadn't run anywhere near that fast or that far in months, so she was a little surprised when she made it without dying.

Hell, I was surprised when she made it out alive. But, that's sorta beside the point.

After she'd gotten out, she stumbled into an ambulance to cough and be covered with a blanket. While there, she learned from John Meyers, an EMT who'd brought her to the hospital a few times in the past, that someone had called in the blaze 30 minutes ago, about 15 minutes after she'd entered. Then, when nobody was paying attention to her, she fell asleep.

She had one dream, and it was short and simple. Basically, just a smokey voice in an equally smokey (if more colorful) background that said, "Go home, Kim Possible. Heroes don't belong on the streets."

When she woke up, half an hour later, the warehouse had burned to the ground and, surprisingly enough, she found her duffel only 10 feet away. She went over and collected it, forgetting that she still had a blanket around her shoulders, and traveled single-mindedly out of Lowerton and into Middleton proper. She walked right up to the door, and before she realized how stupid this would look, she gave the front door of the bi-level mid-rise ranch-style house with a driveway going up a small hill 3 solid knocks.

The absurdity of her actions, combined with the embarrassingly low status of her recent state of life, hit her right as the door opened. She hid her duffel behind her as she blushed.

The redheaded woman at the door stood there in surprise for a moment. Then words came to her mouth. "Kimmie."

The smaller redhead smiled at the bigger one, still blushing. "Hey mom."

A/N: I was given a "Recomendation" on for this story, which is a good sign in my mind, so I know people like it. Can't wait to have more for you.

See you then!


	5. Who are we, really?

"Now, what happened next was this big ol' thing that had the great Mrs. Dr. Possible up in a snit about a few things, though a very calm snit. That, I think you can get straight from her, so I'll just give you the highlights. Now, it did take Annie a moment to recognize her daughter, but remember, this girl has been living in a shithole apartment in the bad part of town for months, before being homeless for over a week with no showers and then stumbling out of a burning warehouse and gaining a shock blanket. That means she's absolutely caked with dirt and grime and smoke and she's wearing the blanket, which at this point is the only wearable thing *not* in her dufflebag of stuff, well, other than the clothes on her back anyway, while smiling for the camera in order to make the public think that nothing is wrong with her. That makes her look like a middle-aged Pakistani woman in the middle of a bombed-out residential block and, no offense to the Pakistani women who I probably just offended, but that's dirty enough that not even their mothers or husbands could recognize them if they didn't see each other every day."

Betty chuckled at that image. Not the most politically correct, but if the news bites she'd seen were any indication, then that fits who this person was. If 'Person' actually applied.

"So, after that bit, she came in, washed up for dinner with an additional rinse once she saw her own face, and then made small talk with her mother over dinner, essentially moving back in." The narrator took a bite of her sandwich. "Mmm!" She gave Betty a look, mouth near completely full. "You know, this is amazing. You have great taste in burger places!"

Betty raised an eyebrow. "This is just lunch, it's crap. When I go home for dinner-"

"You go home?!" The still chipmonk-cheeked narrator asked, the shock clear in her voice.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Betty asked mildly, amusement plain to see if you knew how to look for it.

"No," She swallowed. "I'm just shocked and surprised at the possibility that Doctor Elizabeth Director actually goes home to sleep or eat rather than living, breathing, and even shitting out Global Justice, that company that you raised up from the ashes of nonexistence to it's current globe-spanning power of law enforcement."

"That must hurt." Betty said bluntly.

The suddenness and sheer disconnect made the narrator burst out laughing, though there was a sad and bitter edge to it. They sat there on that park bench for awhile, one woman just laughing it up and the other just soaking in the scene and simply observing the other woman. It was almost easy to see how it happened, once you got past the barest surface. She would make a great recruit for the espionage division, if she had a reason to stay around. Unfortunately, they both knew how this story ends. After all, it only started playing out a few short months ago.

When the other woman had calmed down, Betty surprised her. "You know, it's really quite amazing how you can go from seeming murderer and kidnapper to regular person once you have some food."

The other woman reacted after a few seconds. "Well, I'd almost say the same thing about you, if I didn't know who you really are."

Betty looked at a tree off in the distance as she prepared to listen, hearing quite well that angry edge. "And what kind of woman am I?"

"A cheat and a dirty thief. You had everything given to you, but you chose to walk away and even attack us!" She set down her sandwich and stood in front of Betty, getting right in her face so that she could see every bit of emotion in it. To see the pain and anger in them as she brought up every piece of ammunition she could, but for some maddening reason, all she got was sadness and guilt. "You left us to the wolves! Our parents were gone and you would not stay to keep us around, keep us together and after that, they kicked me out like the stupid mongrel I am! Left me for dead on the streets! You did _nothing_ to help me, _nothing_ to help _us_! And when they turned on her, you did even less, saying it wasn't your _stinkin'_ problem! Now, you hate her! And then he wouldn't stop drinking and Meg couldn't stop fighting with his girlfriend and- and-!" Tears were beginning to fall off her face, grief and rage bottled up for so long that it was finally exploding on her, flying out as fast as possible.

She would have continued, but Betty calmly placed a forefinger on the other woman's lips, eyes filled with sadness. Then, with as much gentleness as she could give, she slowly pulled the now weeping woman into her arms to sob into her shoulder. She'd been preparing for this monologue for a long time. Since the very first time Harry picked up a beer bottle, in fact. Well, a little after, as she needed to know what was going on before she could prepare, but prepare she had, and she'd held this secret for 20 long years. "First off, don't you dare call me that one-sided." Betty said softly, letting her sadness speak, rather than any unstifled anger she may have left. "I've never hated your sister and I never will. I try to bust her because it's my job to keep people safe. I would love nothing more than to be able to walk up to her with a case of root beer and watch chick flicks all day long."

"Then-then wha-what do you call sending your-your dogs after her-er-er-er-errrr!" She asked through her sobs.

"Proportionate response to the task and not being brave enough to do it myself. I couldn't look myself in the mirror that day, and I sometimes still can't. I was sending a _child_ to do my dirty work, but she was available, I could not bring myself to do it personally, and something needed to be done that wouldn't leave her with anything close to a permanent solution." A tear began to make it's tracks down Betty's face. "I'm not saying it was a conscionable decision; just that it turned out for the best."

"How?!"

"She was out of control until then, and nothing any of the three of us could do would have changed that. After that first time being shown she wasn't destined to float at the top for the rest of her life by a tween, she found a reason to live. She became a mentor through combat, and a good friend if they bothered at all to look at themselves. But now, things are going out of control again, like when I could not, in good conscience, stop Harold's alcoholism because he was a person of high interest in a high-stakes takeover bid aiming for the planet. I was glad that he wasn't involved, but I knew nothing I could do would help."

"Why! Why c-couldn't y-you-hoo-hoo!"

Betty snorted, sad look still on her face. "You know him. Once something's in that rock he calls a brain, it isn't ever coming out. He couldn't handle the truth, but the truth was there in front of him, glaring in his face and shouting at him loud enough that he couldn't ignore it, so instead of facing it he chose to erase it. Meg... was Meg. Boy always had connection problems, though those commitment issues did exist as a side rather than the main dish."

"While you're a-at it, why not us!" She finished with a particularly strong sob.

"Because we're not like the others. They're clear cut for the most part, other than Abby. Us? Heh, we're dynamite. Hell, Dran, we're two suicide bombing terrorists screaming angrily at each other half in guttural languages neither understands and half in mismatched made-up languages while PMS-ing with every trigger known to man on those huge packs of C-4's slimmer and stronger cousin just rarin' to go off because somebody's playing Tetris until a kid walks by and eats his chocolate right in front of us. I just hide it better, just like Kimmy."

The sobbing began to die down a little, partly because all the bottled up emotion was now spent, years of pain released in seconds, and partly because, if Dran was still the same girl she was as a kid, then she'd be distracted by such an odd metaphor and try to figure it out as thoroughly as possible before reacting. Betty just continued to hold her and pet her back as the tears trickled away. A drowned and bitter laugh hiccuped its way out of Dran's throat and Betty lifted the woman up to look her in the eye, another tear falling from the doctor's remaining brown orb to join with all the others. Dran was sniffling, but, other than the bitter moroseness that had been clinging to the girl the entire time, she looked loads better.

"Feeling better?" Betty asked the still heaving raven-haired beauty (well, normally raven-haired beauty. Currently a deep-maroon-colored mess. Go figure).

"Y-yeah." Beat, breath. "There's just one thing I can't figure."

"What?"

"Well, two actually. Why won't you call Abby your sister the way you do as if she really was mine?"

"Because A) She really is your sister, regardless of how close you were by blood, because of how she acted and B) she asked me not to. It was when I put her in the Drunk Tank the first time."

"Oh. Now what is it?"

This might be a question Betty's been dreading most of her life. Or it might just be 'What kind of gun do you have?' Let's find out. "What's what?"

"The thing." She sniffled and wiped away one last tear. "Harry got invulnerable strength, Meg got size, Weegs got multiplicity, Abby got Green, obviously, just as I got Dragon. What did you get from that stupid hunk of rock?"

Betty looked at Dran for a solemn moment. "Time Bomb."

Dran laughed, the hysterics still a little present. "Yeah, right!"

In response, while Dran was laughing, Betty reached up to her shirt, the jacket she always wore when she knew she wouldn't be going out in the field, and pulled open the flaps, showing off her bust. That part wasn't the point though, nor was it what got Dran to stop laughing. No, what got the Dragon woman's attention was the pulsating blue orb with a feel of absolute, evil power thumping in time to the brunette's heartbeat, though it had the regularity of a clock's second hand at double speed.

* * *

><p>AN: I decided, it's been awhile, and someone liked the story enough to say "I like it and I want more!" (Yep, two people reviewed, asking for more), so I made another chapter and then posted it. Hope you still like it, and I hope that I can actually work on it more so that people continue to like it and it gets finished. :)

Also, sorry (NOT!) about the cliffhanger! :) thought it might be nice of me to be evil to you for the moment, while promising you more! This story is not dead, and neither am I! |]


End file.
